


The Bromance

by mahbecks



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Bromance, Eavesdropping, Explicit Language, F/M, Groping, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Making Out, Matchmaking, Romance, Semi-Crack, Varric is a Fairy Godmother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 20:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4535415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbecks/pseuds/mahbecks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian and Evelyn are bro's. But no one gets that. </p><p>Hawke thinks Evelyn is the sexiest woman he's ever seen. But he's never gotten the chance to act on it.</p><p>And Varric is basically everyone's fairy godmother. But he expects royalty payments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bromance

**Author's Note:**

> I think the Bioware generic Hawke from DA:I is pretty much fantastic. And I'm really sad that he's only around for that one series of quests in the game. I really wish he was more involved in the game. 
> 
> I'd also really like it if you could romance him! haha maybe then Cullen would have some competition!
> 
> So I have him getting some love here! :)

Evelyn knew instantly that Dorian didn’t like women.

It wasn’t something he said, or something that he did; she just knew.

But it didn’t seem to matter that she knew the truth. It didn’t seem to matter that _he_ knew that she knew the truth. People still continued to talk about the two of them as if they were together.

Perhaps some of the blame for that lay with her. She took him on nearly every expedition away from Skyhold. They spent many a free moment together in the tavern, heads tucked low over a bottle of wine as they traded delicious gossip. A few times, Dorian had even spent the night in her quarters – but that was a safety issue, really. He had been far too drunk to properly climb the stairs up to his quarters safely. She wasn’t going to let him break his neck.

But she didn’t like Dorian that way. And he preferred to fondle a rather different set of anatomy.

It certainly hadn’t stopped Dorian from finding a proper lover. When the mage wasn’t with her, he was off with Bull, making out in a broom closet, fucking behind the stables, canoodling in the kitchens… she’d walked in on them more times than she really would have liked. The last time Bull had even suggested that she _join_ them.

She couldn’t have done that.

It would have been like having sex with her brother.

No, thank you.

She would find someone else to satisfy her.

* * * * *

There were many men that she could have chosen to share her bed. And truth be told, Skyhold had no shortage of attractive individuals. But it seemed that Evelyn had a reason not to become involved with any of them.

Cullen was struggling with his lyrium addiction. She’d flirted with him for a while, but one day he’d painfully told her that he couldn’t return any affection for her while he battled his condition. That had been an awkward conversation.

Varric was like an older brother to her. Not to mention he was still besotted with Bianca. Damn bitch.

Solas was a prick sometimes.

And Blackwall wasn’t even fucking Blackwall, but some soldier named Thom Rainier.

A few noblemen had come to call on her – there had been one memorable man from Antiva who’d offered her his hand in marriage. Josephine had politely told her that she was, under no circumstances, to accept the offer; the man apparently offered his hand in marriage to any woman he could because his rather small genitalia enticed no one. She was eternally grateful to Josie for her discretion.

There had been a few from Orlais as well, most notably the son of Vivienne’s lover, Bastien de Ghislain. That too had seemed a bad idea; she hardly wanted Vivienne as an in-law. The woman was difficult enough to deal with as it was, lording it over the other mages and parading around Skyhold as if she owned the place.

Even one of Cassandra’s numerous relatives had come to her door, wooing her with flowers and love ballads. The Seeker had watched him for several minutes, eyes narrowing, until she’d finally just punched the man in the face.

Her options with the nobility had grown rather slim after that.

* * * * *

“You know, Hawke always liked you.”

Evelyn looked over at Varric, raising an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come on, Cupcake,” the dwarf snorted. “I’m not an idiot. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your roving eyes. You want a man!”

“I _need_ a man,” she muttered, head dropping into her hands. “A woman has needs, Varric.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“But here’s the thing,” she said, peeking at him through her fingers. “Everyone thinks I’m with Dorian!”

“Sparkler?” the dwarf asked, surprised. “Didn’t think you were his type.”

“I’m not!” she agreed. “I’m really, really, _really_ not!” She sighed then, leaning back into her chair, arms dropping dejectedly into her lap.

“To be fair, the two of you are thick as thieves.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Not helping, Varric.”

“I’m just saying!” he protested, putting his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Can you blame people for talking?”

“I suppose not,” she muttered. She frowned them, Varric’s initial words coming to mind. “Wait… Hawke?”

The dwarf smirked at her. “Yup,” he replied smugly. “Garrett Hawke. He’s on his way back to Skyhold now that’s finished talking to the Wardens at Weisshaupt. You might… talk to him while he’s here.”

“He likes me?”

The thought thrilled her. She supposed she’d always had a little bit of a crush on Hawke, a silly little infatuation. What girl wouldn’t? He was handsome and strong, with a wicked smile and a rugged swagger to his steps. He was fierce and intelligent, loyal and completely unrepentant of his decisions.

She’d never acted on the impulse to climb him like a tree, however. Hawke was never in one place for an extended period of time – there were too many people who would love to get their hands on him for that.

But now that he was coming back…

“What’s not to like?” Varric asked. “You’re not my type, Cupcake, but a man would have to be blind to not notice how pretty you are.” Evelyn flushed at the praise, smiling shyly at Varric. “And he admires you; you’re one of the few people I think Hawke can relate to. Since, you know, you both have had to save the world and all.”

“But… well, has he said anything to you?” Evelyn asked. “Or is this all your supposition?”

“Supposition?” Varric repeated. “Cupcake, the world runs on supposition! Nothing would ever get done, otherwise!”

“Alright, alright,” she said quickly, waving a hand. “I’ll… talk to Hawke when he returns. Maybe.”

“That’s my girl.”

* * * * *

“You told her _what_?”

Varric smirked up at his old friend; the Champion of Kirkwall looked apoplectic. “The truth,” he replied easily, shifting the stack of manuscript pages around in front of him. “Where’s the harm in that?” He bent down to pen a note in the margin of one page – he’d have to remember to edit that paragraph.

Hawke slipped into the chair across from him. “You fucker,” he muttered angrily. “A lot of harm could come of that!” He reached over and jerked the pen out of Varric’s hand.

“Hey!” the dwarf protested. “I’m working here!”

“You told the Inquisitor that I…” Hawke spluttered indignantly.

“What? _Like_ her?” Varric snorted. “What are you, twelve? She’s a big girl, Hawke! She’s not going to tease you and pull your hair about it! Besides, she seemed quite flattered when I told her.”

“You still shouldn’t have said anything!” Hawke snapped. “You always meddle!” He broke off sullenly, staring into the fire. Varric cautiously took the pen back from him, and resumed scrawling in the margins. He worked quickly, just in case Hawke noticed and tried to nab the pen again.

“Wait.”

Varric paused, and looked up, smirking.

“She… she was happy?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“Yes,” Hawke replied flatly. “In fact, you have. Multiple times.”

“I… embellished. Lie is a strong word.”

“I thought she was with that mage from Tevinter. Dorian.”

“Sparkler?” Varric chuckled. “She doesn’t have chest hair or balls. So no, he doesn’t like her that way.”

“Are you sure?” Hawke asked quietly. He was fidgeting with a paperweight on the table, turning it between his long fingers. “I always see them together.”

“We were always seen together for a time too,” the dwarf pointed out. “But that doesn’t mean I want to take _you_ to bed with me.”

Hawke chuckled. “Thank the Maker for that,” he muttered.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I am an fantastic lover!”

“You _are_ the expert on pornography,” Hawke allowed.

Varric clutched the copy of _Swords & Shields_ that lay on the table close to his chest. “He didn’t mean that,” he muttered to the book, as if it could hear him. He glared up at Hawke. “It’s not porn. It’s highly graphic suggestive material.”

Hawke rolled his dark eyes. “Same difference.”

“How did this come to be about me, anyways?” Varric demanded. “This is about you!”

“No, this is about how you blabbed to the Inquisitor,” Hawke snapped.

“I had to do something,” Varric insisted. “Every time you talk about her, you get all… googly-eyed.”

“Googly-eyed?” Hawke repeated. His face drooped down into a scowl. “ _Googly_ - _eyed?_ The fuck does that mean?”

“Just go talk to her already!”

He shooed Hawke away from the table, despite his friend’s disgruntled look. He’d go and talk to the Inquisitor eventually; he knew Hawke, and the man wasn’t one to shy away from an opportunity. The Champion of Kirkwall was a man of action. Now that Varric had planted the seed… it would spring to fruition within days. He was sure of it. He smirked; this was going to be good. He’d need to find snacks.

He looked up as Sera ran into the hall, stacks of pastries in her hands. She looked around, giggling like a madwoman. When her eyes found Varric, she threw one of the pastries at him. He didn’t have time to duck before it smacked him in the face. She ran off before he could offer chase.

With a sigh, he picked the pastry off. If only his publisher could see him now.

Maybe then the bastard would see that it _really_ wasn’t his fault nothing was ever done on time.

* * * * *

Evelyn stood on the ramparts, the breeze plucking at her auburn hair. It was cool on her skin, enough so that she wished for a warmer cloak. But she couldn’t very well leave now.

She was… on guard duty.

She rolled her eyes as she heard a particularly loud moan beyond the door to her right. It was followed by the unmistaken, resounding smack of flesh on flesh, and she could only guess as to what was happening.

Typical.

She looked out over Skyhold, observing the fortress that she had come to call home. It was a grey day, the sky overheard filled with fluffy rain clouds. She feared a storm might be brewing. They would have to monitor it closely; storms this high in the mountains could be quite severe.

She would be leaving again soon. They had been contacted by a man known as Fairbanks, asking for assistance with a rebellious Orlesian group known as the Freemen of the Dales. She’d not heard of either Fairbanks or these Freemen before, but she was always willing to lend a helping hand.

Evelyn turned when she heard the soft sound of boot heels clicking on stone.

Hawke.

She straightened, pushing her hair behind her ears nervously. She shouldn’t have been so flustered, really. She’d seen Hawke many times before this. And not once had she acted strangely around him; there was no reason to start now.

But… that had been _before_ Varric had told her that Hawke liked her.

Once again, she was struck by how handsome he was. The wind was playing with his dark hair too, and his umber eyes were intense. There was a ruggedness to Hawke that she didn’t find in many of the Inquisition men. Perhaps it came from years of living on the run. But there was also a swagger to him, an easy confidence that came from years of doing what simply had to be done. She knew she’d developed it, and she could recognize it now in Hawke.

“Inquisitor,” he said in greeting. His voice was warm, rich and velvety.

“Hello, Hawke,” she smiled. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s good to be back,” he admitted, taking a few steps closer to her. “Weisshaupt is… different, to say the least.”

She laughed. “So I’ve heard,” she replied.

He looked around then, as if taking in the parapets for the first time. “Varric told me you were up here,” he admitted. “I have to say… I wouldn’t have checked here.”

“Ah, yes, well…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say. What could she tell Hawke without giving Dorian and Bull away? They were already loud enough as it is, their murmurings almost discernable over their conversation.

“What’s in there?” Hawke pointed to the tower, and took a step towards it.

“No!” Evelyn said sharply, rushing over to him. She put a hand on his chest, pushing back slightly. “Don’t go in there!”

He raised an eyebrow at her, and then slowly moved his eyes down to where her hand rested. She flushed and instantly withdrew the hand. “You shouldn’t go in there,” she murmured.

“And why is that?”

They were interrupted by a very loud, very guttural, “ _YES_!”

Evelyn flushed; well, it looked like the cat was out of the bag now.

Hawke had to hide his snort of amusement behind his hand. “Why, Inquisitor,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know you were into this sort of thing.”

“What-?” Her eyes widened in shock. “No! I don’t – this isn’t – I’m not!” She huffed, trying to gather her wits about her. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

“It looks like you’re peeping.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I – no!”

Hawke studied her for a moment, and she flushed under the scrutiny. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking; his gaze was utterly unreadable.

“I’m just standing guard,” she finally offered lamely.

He raised an eyebrow. “Standing guard?” he repeated.

“So no one… you know…” She jerked her head back towards the quite occupied tower. “So no one walks in on them. Dorian and Bull.” 

Hawke snorted. “You’re their watchman?” he asked. He moved towards her then, stopping just a few inches away from her. She had to look up into his face now, such was their height difference. He had a curious expression on his face. “It's arousing, isn't it?”

“What?” she gasped, heat flooding her cheeks.

He took one of her hands, holding it in his much larger one. “You stand here, covered in gooseflesh from the cold,” he murmured, “listening to him get fucked into oblivion. You can hear the noises he makes – every moan, every whimper.” His words were like the snap of an elastic band to her stomach, sending a sudden stab of lust through her. Her eyes slipped closed as Hawke walked around her in a circle, stopping somewhere behind her. “Surely you can imagine the scene – him laid low on his back, or perhaps pressed up against a wall. Maybe he’s delirious with pleasure, or perhaps he has his face scrunched up in ecstasy.

“You can hear him, begging for release. Asking for more. Giving directions to his partner. Can you imagine the look on his face? Imagine the sensations coursing through his body?”

She felt a moan slip from her lips before she could stop it.

Horrified, her eyes flew open. Oh, Maker. Oh, Maker, _no_. No, no. _No_.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a warm hand on her stomach. She looked down, one of her hands instantly reaching out to cover Hawke’s. He drew her back into his frame then, letting his bulk dwarf her small, lithe body. Her heart was hammering against the cage of her ribs; surely he could hear it?

She froze when she felt it.

Was that? Oh, yes. Her thighs were already damp with the arousal Hawke had so easily described, and her core was shuddering at Hawke’s touch, but she wasn’t the only one affected. She could feel his own arousal pressing against her back.

Andraste _fucking_ preserve her!

“I hear Varric may have let loose a bit of information about me,” Hawke murmured, head falling onto her shoulder. “Regarding you, that is.” His breath was warm against her cheek, and she could smell the spicy scent that was uniquely him. 

She laughed nervously, and experimentally pressed her hips back against him. Hawke muffled a groan at her action, and she smiled lightly. “He... he may have,” she admitted.

“And you – you aren’t… opposed to the idea?” he asked. He turned ever so slightly, so he could press his lips against the hollow at the base of her ear. Her grip on his hand tightened, and she had to bite her lips to stop the noise that threatened to slip forth.

She felt him grin against her skin, and he moved, pressing his lips against her flesh more firmly this time. "Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?" She whimpered, pressing back against him and tilting her neck. Maker, such a simple thing shouldn’t have felt so wonderful! She sighed as his lips found the shell of her ear, a soft little exhale of surprise that such an area could be so sensitive.

His hand moved higher across her stomach, stopping just below her breasts. “Evelyn?” he murmured.

“I –” She found that she couldn’t say more, her breath catching in her throat as he took her earlobe between his teeth.

“Yes?” he asked, nipping at the skin he’d already worried.

“ _No_ ,” she breathed, leaning into his touch. “I’m not opposed.”

His grip on her tightened, and she felt him exhale against her. “ _Good_ ,” he breathed. Before she knew what was happening, Hawke had grabbed her hips, steering her away with a purpose. She let herself be led away from the tower, her feet treading lightly upon the flagstones. The firm hands on her body led her the correct direction, down several flights of stairs and into a part of the keep she’d never frequented before.

She didn’t know where they were. Her eyes were closed tight as she allowed Hawke to be their guide. Along the way, he caressed her sides with gentle fingers, teasing gestures of what was to come. She heard a door click open, and then felt something soft at the back of her knees. She opened her eyes, questioning, only to see Hawke staring down at her intently, brown eyes black with desire.

Evelyn fell into the blankets willingly; the small part of her brain that was still functioning reasoned that this had to be Hawke’s quarters. It shared the same spicy scent as him. Hawke kicked the door closed behind them before turning to face her. He stared at her for a moment, taking in her appearance, from her flushed cheeks to her heavy breathing. It was only a moment though, a fraction of a second of peace before he was upon her, kissing her roughly.

It wasn’t a gentle, chaste kiss. Nor was it the sensual kiss of a lover. It was the hot, needy kiss of one who’d been without affection for far too long. She returned the kiss readily, her hands coming up to frame the side of his face, clutching at him needily. He bit her lower lip and she groaned, allowing him entrance to her mouth.

It was several long moments before either of them could even think to do anything else, their sole thoughts on kissing the person with whom they were sharing the bed.

And then Hawke was gone as quickly as he’d come, moving to burn a trail of kisses down her throat, his lips searing against her skin. She gripped the back of his head, dragging him down into her, hard. He growled in appreciation, moving to undo the buttons connecting her shirt together.

It was exhilarating. She’d always seen Garrett Hawke as some kind of immortal savior figure – the Champion of Kirkwall. He was a nomad, a traveling ex-hero who’d not gotten a whit of thanks for saving his city. He hadn’t had the opportunity to live a normal life in quite some time. And yet here he was, kissing her with abandon, and pulling her shirt off and kissing her most sensitive spots as if he’d done it every day of his life. Kissing _her_ as if she were the only thing that mattered to him in this moment.

Perhaps the Maker wasn’t quite as dead as Corypheus painted him.

She moaned when his lips contacted that small bit of flesh between her breasts, right over her sternum. Her back arched involuntarily, and her hands tightened on him. He paused against her, gauging her reaction before swiftly leaning back in and kissing her anew. “Do you like that?” he murmured, full lips teasing against her skin.

“Yes,” she breathed, shrugging her arms out of her shirt. She dragged his head to one of her naked breasts, encouraging him. He took one of her nipples into his mouth then, and she let out a whimper as he suckled her, tongue moving in sinuous circles against her. “I - _mmmm_ \- I like it a lot.” He bit down once and she moaned, tortured by the pleasant sensation.

He chuckled at her antics, and she flushed at the rich, sensuous sound. “You’re very sensitive,” he commented.

She bucked her hips up against his then, and he moaned in response. “Now who’s the sensitive one?” she breathed, intent on feeling his hardness press against her again. She reached down to grab his hip, forcing their lower bodies into contact again even as he continued to lavish her breast with attention.

“You have to stop doing that,” he said, a touch of a warning in his voice. He removed his mouth then, pulling back just enough to stare down at her.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, moving her hands back up to his head.

“I won’t be able to control myself.” His hands were at her hips then, pressing her down into the mattress.

“Then don’t,” she whispered.

He groaned, resting his forehead against hers. “This wasn’t how this was supposed to go,” he murmured.

She pulled back, pushing herself up on her arms so that she could look at him. “How _what_ was supposed to go?” she asked quietly.

He snorted, laying his head down at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His hands were still tight on her hips, and he absently stroked the bare skin there as he spoke. The light touch sent a shiver down her spine. “Flowers, wine, some form of witty remark about how I admire you,” he replied. “But all I could think of was you standing there listening to them _fucking_ , and it was…” He swiftly leaned in, kissing her hard and leaving her breathless. “You have no idea how sexy you are to me. All I could think of was dragging you off somewhere and-” He broke off, shaking his head. 

“Tell me,” she suggested, moving up to fit her palms against his biceps.

He stared at her for a moment before a wicked grin broke out across his face. “I don’t think I can quite find the words,” he admitted. He traced a long line down her side with a finger, pausing at the hem of her pants. Her breath caught in her throat as he played with the drawstrings, tantalizingly close to her core. “But perhaps... I can show you? If that would be alright?”

She nodded emphatically, giving him permission to do all of the things he’d ever wished to do to her. With her. _For_ her. It was everything she had always fantasized about, her every dream made reality. She’d always known that Hawke was good at what he did.

But _Andraste’s_ _flaming_ _tits_ , Garrett Hawke was a talented man.

* * * * *

“Where did she go?” Dorian snapped impatiently, hands upon his hips. He was beginning to get worried. Evelyn had agreed to be their lookout, and he’d come to tell her that they were finished – a little later than he’d anticipated, but she knew how these things went. But she was nowhere to be found. He’d been looking for almost half an hour now. It was as if she’d vanished.

“Find anything?” Bull asked, walking over to the mage’s side.

“No,” Dorian huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Had she left? Or gotten called away on business? It wasn’t impossible… He sighed then. “Come along, then,” he directed towards his lover. “Wherever she is, it’s certainly not here.”

The two of them set off down the ramparts towards the courtyard, an amiable silence falling between them. It was almost time for the evening meal, and he could feel his stomach grumbling in anticipation. A good fuck would do that to you. But first he needed a bath. He was far stickier than he normally preferred.

Dorian froze when he heard a shuddering, broken moan.

He looked up at Bull, who’d cocked his head at the noise as well. “Did you hear that?” the mage whispered. The Qunari nodded, looking around for the source.

There it was again!

“The door,” Bull murmured, pointing to a door they’d just passed.

Dorian nodded, and the both of them tiptoed back to it. He pressed his ear against the door as gently as possible, smirking when he heard the unmistakable sounds of unbridled passion.

“Mmmm… _harder_!”

Bull’s eye glittered with suppressed amusement as he looked down at his lover. “Someone’s having fun,” he whispered.

“Indeed!” Dorian smirked.

“Fuck, _Evelyn_!” a distinctly male voice snapped. “You’re so fucking tight!”

Dorian had to hide his cackle of amusement by biting a knuckle. He was shaking with suppressed laughter. Tears came to his eyes.

That was _Evelyn_?!

Well, he supposed he could forgive her for wandering off now. _This_ was an acceptable excuse.

But who was she with?

He didn’t have long to wait. Another lusty, drawn out moan filled the air, followed by a breathy, “ _Garrett_!”

“Looks like Boss caught herself a Hawke,” Bull sniggered.

“That she did,” Dorian replied. He was bursting with pride for his friend – Hawke was quite a catch, and for the normally reserved Evelyn to have made such a steal…

He sighed, dabbing at his eyes with a sleeve.

They grew up so fast!

* * * * *

Things were better for Evelyn after that.

She was a little embarrassed to discover that word had spread of her and Hawke’s encounter long before they’d managed to make themselves presentable and head down to Skyhold proper. In fact, Dorian had told nearly everyone that he’d seen, and Bull wasn’t much better.

Those two were worse than Orlesians at a dinner party.

But Hawke had just wrapped an arm around her and steered her away from the gossips, settling them neatly into a table with only a smug Varric for company. He’d teased her a little at first, but he was also taking full responsibility for their actions – and also asking how they felt about royalty payments.

Hawke began to frequent Skyhold much more often after that, staying longer than a few hours and even showing his face to the refugees. He accompanied Evelyn on missions, though he stayed clear of political matters entirely. And after that first, heated encounter, he really did take the time to properly woo Evelyn – with flowers, jewelry, and several love poems that Varric had written especially for them. They had a good laugh at those.

But the best part was that it finally laid to rest all of the rumors about her and Dorian. No one ever asked her about her “lover from Tevinter” again. It helped her regain a little sanity.

Because after all, she and Dorian were just bro’s. And that was all there was to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my crazy random idea! :)
> 
> As always, feedback is greatly appreciated if that's your thing :)


End file.
